Date: Fri, 27 Apr 2007 23:54:52 -0700
From: bamaboi2serve@charter.net
Subject: Storm Discovery Part TEN -Weekend at Verner's
Storm Discovery, Part TEN - Weekend at Verner's
Bamaboi2serve@charter.net
The ride downtown was uncomfortable...many of Hotlanta's downtown
streets are notorious for potholes...but eventually we came to a stop. I
heard a garage door opening, we pulled forward and then the door closed. I
expected bright light when the trunk was opened, but it was still dark in
whatever space we were in.
One of the Germans searched around in the tiny compartment for the end
of my leash, grabbing my tit rings momentarily and yanked on them before he
located it. When he did, he pulled me very harshly out of the trunk. I fell
to my knees on a hard concrete floor. He didn't stop, but immediately
started walking with me in tow, trying to keep up, choking because of the
leash. I was too slow for him, so he turned around and slapped my almost
exposed ass cheeks so hard it took my breath away! "Move Slut!", he yelled.
I kept up with him the rest of the walk through the garage, up a short
set of stairs to an elevator and then into the huge industrial-like loft.
He pulled me to the center of the main living area and mounted my neck
from behind, kneeling down with my head between his legs, using his crotch
to force my head downward, squeezing it tightly with his long muscular
legs. He wore leather pants, adding to the eroticism of the moment for
me. I inhaled deeply. "My name is Verner," said the blond, but you will
call me Sir and nothing but Sir! My friend over there is Schmidt, but he
too will be Sir to you. We are both very horny. We miss our little slave
bois back in Berlin, and we are worried that you are a spoiled American and
may not be as obedient as they are. Will you? Will you do as we say?"
As he was speaking, the dark haired Schmidt came over in front of my
face, knelt down, opened his fly, and proceeded to piss on my face. I tried
to answer the question and catch some of his piss in my mouth at the same
time, producing a gargled answer that I hoped sounded like "Yes Sir!".
When he had finished pissing, he went around to my ass, pulled down my
shorts and proceeded to paddle my ass with a black discipline paddle with
holes in it. The blond Sir maintained his leather-clad leg- hold on me,
slapping my head with his hardening cock. I couldn't even move as my ass
burned red!
Blond Sir used his hand to sop up some of his partner's piss from the
tiled floor and wipe it into my hair and onto my face. Despite the pain on
my ass, I licked his fingers when they came within reach of my mouth.
I know it's wrong, but the two Sir's German accents were a turn- on
for me, and I wanted very badly to satisfy whatever itch they needed
scratching. I had never had a POW type of fantasy, but I could feel one
welling up inside me.
Finally, the ass spanking ended and both of the Sirs stood up, walked
over the an open-area kitchen and got beers from the refrigerator, leaving
me behind on all-fours without a word.
They turned on a music system and dance music mixes filled the
space. Outside it had started pouring rain.
I could feel heat rising from my bright red cheeks, and the aroma of
pee was all over my head and face. The pain was severe enough that I even
felt a couple of tears drop to the floor to mix with the pee.
The kitchen was far enough away that even with my head down I could
finally see the two visitors. Blond Verner was short and stocky, very
muscular, with chest hair sprouting from behind the neck of the tight
spandex T-shirt he wore above the tight leather jeans. The hair on his head
was skinhead short and he had a close trimmed goatee. Bold tribal tattoos
circled both arms, framing his huge arm biceps. His eyes were a fierce
blue. I feared him, even without eye contact.
Black-haired Schmidt was much taller and lanky. His straight hair was
long, touching his collar. He had virtually no body hair that I could
see. His eyes were as dark as his hair. His muscles were long and subtle,
his jeans were hip-huggers, a bright white tank showed off his beautiful
body.
I guessed that both of my weekend Masters were in their late 20's. I
blushed, thinking about my concern earlier that they would be old men.They
were hunks and I was proud to be in their service. I only hoped I could
keep up with them!
There was a clock in view. It was Friday night just after 9:00. I had
been in the loft only fifteen minutes. It was going to be a very long
weekend!
________________
There were two bathrooms in the loft...a luxurious full bath with
sauna, enclosed in frosted glass block against the main interior wall, and
a second much smaller bath at the other end of the room. It was to this
room that Blond Sir pulled me, attaching my arms to the restraining straps
at the back of my harness and unceremoniously tossing me into the shower
stall. He then covered me completely with his piss. He did it so casually,
hardly glancing at me, as if he was peeing into a urinal. But for me it was
another humiliating turn-on and I had a roaring hard-on.
"Oh, a real piss pig, eh? You like this? We'll see how much is real and
how much just a little american boi fantasy, shithead. We do things
differently in Germany, bitch. You americans just play make-believe. We do
it for real!" WIth that he pulled out a pair of serious endurance tit
clamps and quickly put them in place. I love having my tits played with,
but this wasn't play. I was in serious pain!
Dark Master replaced him and did the same, finishing the piss he had
started earlier. Then both men left the room, turning off the light but
leaving the door open. I crouched in the dark, inhaling their aromas, my
ass still smarting from the spanking, adjusting to the clamps, and
wondering what was next for me.
From outside I could hear them talking, perhaps on the phone, but I
couldn't quite make out the words. I did hear "clean him" and "dark
numbers"...then Blond Sir came in and turned on the water in the shower,
not waiting for it to warm up, of course. He directed the stream over me,
rinsing off the sweat and piss I had accumulated. A rough towel drying
followed, Dark Sir handed me a pill and a glass of water and ordered me to
swallow it. Then we were headed out the door of the loft, me at dog level.
I was truly confused, where were we going? A club? I thought the loft
was "equipped" for playing. The leather of the harness FS had put on me was
tightening even more on my body from the piss and the water of the shower.
We got into the elevator and went down to the ground level, but instead
of heading into the garage, we turned and went to a hallway with a series
of doors. As we walked past I could tell they were interior entrances to
the retail stores in the building. Someone approached from the other end of
the hall and we moved aside to let him pass. This being Downtown Atlanta, I
got only a "nice dog" comment and barely a glance. At the third door we
stopped and Dark Master rang a bell.
I was keeping my head down, so I couldn't read the sign on the door, but
through the glass I could see it was some kind of leather store. At least
there were leather goods hanging on the one wall I could see.
Someone came and let us in, locking the door behind us. I quickly found
out what kind of shop it was.
"Hi, we called from upstairs? We have the boi here who needs marking."
It was a tattoo place! My mind immediately started figuring ways out,
thinking Master would never approve of these strangers having me inked,
thinking I could make a run for it and Master would approve. I glanced
around to either side of me and didn't see an obvious exit...
Dark Sir reached down and started un-strapping my elaborate leather
harness, face mask and all. Dark Sir accepted a plain leather blindfold
from the shop owner and covered my eyes.
With the cock-gag out, I was able to talk, but I was scared to say
anything. Dark Sir started speaking down to me, like one might address an
especially dumb child,
"Now boi, we don't want any trouble from you. We've decided you are
much too plain looking and need some markings to set off your pale hairless
skin. Mark here is going to do the work while we go off and visit your
nightclubs." As he spoke, both Sirs picked me up and put me on a raised
surface like a hospital bed. The used heavy straps to secure me face-up,
pulling my hands up above my head and attaching them to a metal rod. They
spread my legs out and secured them to rings built into the bottom. I was
shaking, more scared about Master's reaction than anything, but not exactly
looking forward to the tattoo pain either.
Blond Sir went away for a moment and came back, getting close to my
left ear and whispered: "Can you feel the item I've just laid on your
stomach bitch? It's a much more substantial paddle than the puny one I used
on you upstairs. Mark here is going to put this toy on my bill. If you've
given him any trouble at all, all three of us are going to try it out on
your ass. All three of us! So do as you are told fuckface! We're anxious to
get this done so we can play with our new toy when we get back next
weekend!"
The German Sirs left and Mark abruptly reached out and started playing
with my cock, which had softened but now unexpectedly rose almost
immediately to attention. Now I knew what the pill was.
"We've got some work to do slut, and not a lot of time...so let's
start. I'm not gay, by the way, so don't think I'm getting off playing with
you! It necessary for the job. Notice I'm wearing gloves so I don't have to
touch your stinkin' skin! Cock tattoos are pretty painful, but I know
you're up to it, so to speak." He chuckled at his own pun.
"Cock tattoo???" I thought.
With that, some kind of liquid was brushed on my hard tool and the
process began. If you have ever been inked, you can imagine the pain. Each
and every needle prick was magnified by the number of nerve endings in my
penis. Yet despite the pain I was excited in my humiliation and found
myself trying to figure out exactly what design was being put along my
shaft. He was starting at the base and working toward the head.
After a while, Mark, talking to himself mostly, answered that questions
and others too.
"I really don't much care what the designs people choose mean, but I
am a little curious. Exactly what is PM3572? Go ahead, you can answer, I
won't tell them you spoke."
The Sirs couldn't know that number unless Master told them! It was my
Paramedic badge number, and that meant Master had approved of this whole
tattoo event!
In as few words as possible, I explained to Mark, and he shrugged it
off. I was a piece of meat to him, my hard cock just a part of that meat,
and he didn't care what I put on my body, as long as he got paid.
It took him over an hour to finish marking the stretched skin of my
cock with the thick, almost inch high blue colored letters and numbers, and
by the time he was done I was almost numb to the pain. When he let go, my
cock finally started to deflate, my badge ID number shrinking so it looked
like an illegible blue blob.
He wasn't done. Mark went to work on my chest, sketching out a circle
that was wide enough to cover my tits on the outside. A smaller ring was
inside, and I suddenly knew what it would be. It took several hours, and it
was after midnight when Mark held a mirror up to my chest after wiping away
the blood drops. Master now had FS and an OS, a Fuck-Slave and an
Oral-Slave. I was marked.
From now on, I would have to explain it to anyone who saw me what it
stood for, and if they saw me naked, they would see my number as well. What
would my firemen friends think? Especially Todd! What would my former best
friend/co-worker think?
Mark let me use his bathroom, then tied me back down in the reclining
chair for some sleep. About 3:00 a.m., FS showed up to take me back to the
farm until next weekend when my German Masters would come back from New
York to play.
He smirked at my new "OS" tattoo, though I thought I caught a little
jealousy too. He made me walk upright and used the leash to guide me
shirtless through the street to Master's pickup. Even that early in the
morning there were men cruising, and my new look got a lot of attention.
More to come, of course.
Bamaboi2serve@charter.net